Dru Goes to Church
by comlodge
Summary: A short story pre series in the Fanged Four days. A little dip inside the head of our favourite insane vampiress when Spike finds her in a church.


**Dru Goes to Church**

By comlodge

_We don't want your body little one. Gristle and bone are not for us. We sup and dine on finer things that slip down our throat, seeping through our veins, waking flesh, waking other things._

Spike smelled the blood, piss and shit before he got to the bottom of the wide stone steps that led to the church doors. He could also smell Dru. He stepped through the doors, looked up the long aisle and saw her standing in front of the choir stands.

Bodies were scattered about on the floor. She'd started without him. A priest stood in front of her, his cross raised high as he was murmured the Lord's Prayer in a voice laced with fear and horror. In the corner of his eye, Spike saw a small figure, probably one of the boys in the choir, stumble through the shadows towards the presbytery at the side.

"Ah, Dru. Put the kiddie down please and come away from the nice man with the cross and the holy water."

Spike edged closer to the priest.

"Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye."

Spike moved, knocking the cross from one hand, grabbing the one that held the vial of holy water and neatly snapped it before the man realised he was in trouble. Spike's face shifted and he buried his fangs in the priest's jugular, going through the white collar of office. He ripped the throat out before a sound could be uttered, then let the dying body crumple to the floor.

"No-one threatens my Dru. No-one!" He kicked the body as he spat the words at the dying man.

Spike turned to Dru, who seemed unaware of the small play of drama unfolding next to her. She was staring into the eyes of the boy standing before her. He was small, dressed in the white smock of a choir boy, the laced material stained with his urine and with blood. The bright red substance sprayed across the folds of his white smock like some macabre painting and dripped to the floor. He was a cherub, ruddy cheeked, blue eyes wide and shining wetly, hair so blonde it was almost white. It softly curled around his face.

She crooked her finger to him and he came to her, tears streaking his cheeks, snot running across his mouth and dripping from his chin. She reached a hand to his face, stroked the hair from his eyes and leaned in to whisper to him.

"Do you want me to be your mummy? You are a bit bigger than my usual babies but you're very pretty, like my William."

Her tongue snaked out and licked stray drops of blood from his face.

"Dru, love, we need to go. You've made a bit of a mess here and the villagers will be coming soon to get their children."

"My tummy was all rumbly but it's not now. It's had its fill of song and prayer. I haven't said confession, my Spike. You know I have to, it's been so long and I have my shawl."

Spike looked towards the altar and the choir stand and then down at the body on the floor.

"Luv, we might have to come back when the priest is not so busy."

"Will you sing for me, my sweet little baby? Will you lift your voice up very high and sing the vespers to welcome in the night?"

She stared deeply into the child's eyes and suddenly he stiffened, stopped his sniffling and opened his mouth. Sweet pure notes rang out, echoing through the nave.

Drusilla closed her eyes and bowed her head, her hands folded together at her breast. Her body swayed gently and she hummed along with the child.

"Dru we have to go. Bring the boy if you want, but Angelus and Darla are waiting for us." He knew the alarm would be raised soon enough and then they would have the village descend on them, in a vain hope of rescuing their children.

"No. He has to stay and sing for me because God doesn't hear me anymore. I try and try to talk to him, but he's not there. This one will sing my prayers for me and kiss the ring. In the morning, I will have toast and tea and Miss Edith will bring me a present."

"Dru, I love your non-sequiturs, I do. But you have eaten a few of the village kiddies tonight and there is going to be a lot of unhappy folk here soon."

He reached for her hand and pulled her to him. He bent his head and touched her forehead with his, closing his eyes as he drew her scent into him. The boy continued to sing in his sweet falsetto voice. Candles flickered in their sconces, casting strange shadows across the unholy scene.

To a vampire it was simply delicious, the sight, the smell, the death. And in the house of God, it was poetry.

…Fin…


End file.
